


The Significant Other: The Will Graham Edition

by house_of_lantis



Series: The Significant Other [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Do not repost my works without my express permission, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: Frankly, no one believes that Will and Hannibal are dating each other.





	The Significant Other: The Will Graham Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiamondSuits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondSuits/gifts).



> Author’s Note: Original prompt belongs to diamondsuits from the awesome Hannigram HQ discord server! 
> 
> Also, I’m totally playing with the Hannibal canon timeline in this story. 
> 
> There is a companion piece called The Significant Other: The Hannibal Lecter Edition that is in progress and will be posted soon!

[](https://imgur.com/PYsIwh7)

**FBI Academy**

**Quantico, Virginia**

**June 26**

Will Graham frowned as he pressed the button, watching as the paper target moved closer towards him. The bullet holes were all over the place. 

“Getting ready for your annual firearm review?” Beverly Katz said, leaning against the edge of the gun range stall already wearing her eyes and ears protective gear. Will nearly jumped at her sudden appearance. She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges, having caught him out. “I didn’t know that academy instructors had to qualify.” 

“It’s not a prerequisite for teaching, but I like to have my weapons qualifications up to date,” he said, setting the used target aside and putting a fresh one back on the clips. He pressed the button, sending it back down the shooting aisle. 

“I heard that Jack Crawford asked you to go into the field with us.” 

“And I said no,” he said, picking up his gun and checking it over. He turned and gave her a suspicious look. “How did you find me?” 

“I was guest lecturing on crime scene investigation procedures,” she said, watching him closely. “Have to bust the fantasies of the baby agents from thinking that forensic science is anything as glamorous as  _ CSI _ . I stopped by your office and your TA said that you were down here.”

He reloaded the clip and replaced it into the shaft of the SIG-Sauer P266 and retook his stance, aiming at the target. He breathed and pulled the trigger twice, keeping his hold against the recoil. He could feel his weaker shoulder pulling his arm to the right. He cocked his head and saw that at least one of the bullets hit the target. 

“Do you have an injury or something?” She said, watching him critically and moving to stand directly behind him in the stall. Will made a face and looked over his shoulder at her, trying to determine why she would violate his personal space so easily, especially since he had a gun in his hands. He took a deep breath and withstood her touching his shoulders and upper back. “You’re slightly off on your Weaver stance.” 

“Got stabbed when I was a cop. I have a rotator cuff issue,” he said, feeling his muscles tighten up because of the recoil. 

She adjusted his shoulder position and then stepped back, giving him room. “Try now.” 

Will pulled the trigger three times in a row, watching as each bullet hit the target directly. The stance did feel better, his body position and minor shift in weight distribution taking the recoil easier to improve his aim. 

“Hey, what’s this on the back of your neck?” 

Will forgot about every gun range safety rule as he raised his hand, still holding his weapon, in a stupid attempt to hide whatever it was that she saw there. 

“Whoa!” Beverly said, putting a firm hand on Will’s bicep, pushing his arm away so that the gun was pointed down the range. 

“Sorry,” he said, pushing off his ear protectors so that the band covered the back of his neck. He carefully set his weapon on the counter and turned to face her so that she wouldn’t try to get a second look. 

Beverly smiled, leaning against the stall wall again, giving him a knowing look. “Are you seeing someone, Graham? Because that is evidence of one hell of a good time.” 

He knew he was blushing, even though he suspected that he was too old to blush. He recalled how Hannibal held him down, whispering something dirty against his ear in his native language, sibilant and melodic in Hannibal’s low voice, and then a hot mouth sucking on the back of his neck as Will screamed his pleasure into a pillow. 

Will met her friendly gaze briefly and couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Yeah...uh, yeah, for about three months now.” 

And it was a dizzying few months, too. Will had never met anyone as  _ peculiar _ or as persnickety as Hannibal. At first, he was put off by Hannibal’s pretentiousness and a little intimidated by his sharp intelligence, and he wondered why Hannibal would even be interested in Will. And, more importantly, why was Will interested in Hannibal? 

Clearly, at first glance, they didn’t seem to have anything in common except a mild curiosity for the other. Alana Bloom had made the initial introductions in the hallway outside of his lecture hall. 

“Will!” Alana called, chasing after him as he tried to make his escape. A tall, well dressed man followed at a more sedate pace. “I’d like you to meet a very good friend of mine. This is Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal, this is Will Graham.” 

Will and Hannibal sized each other up, shaking hands. Hannibal was a peacock, hiding under his beautiful plumage of plaids and paisleys. Will stuck to neutrals and tweeds, easier to remain unnoticed. Both of them hiding or  _ hiding from _ something; it was a mystery that Will wanted to solve. 

But he soon found, over late night dinners and drinks by the cozy fireplace, that they shared a desire for the type of companionship that worked for both of them. Will wasn’t a talkative guy on his best day, preferring to live inside his head. Hannibal lived inside his head, too, but he somehow persuaded Will to join him beyond it. They each had an odd perspective of the world; Will’s deep knowledge of the inner workings of serial killers and Hannibal’s strange empathy and understanding of their pathology -- Will had joked once that together, they’d make a formidable killing team, and Hannibal had met his gaze with a pleased smile on his lips. 

_ And the sex...my god the sex…  _

“No way,” she said, laughing, pulling Will from his deep thoughts. “Who is she? Or he?” 

He stared at her, wondering if he could just outright lie to her. 

“You might as well tell me or I’ll ask Alana,” she said, and then gasped. “Is it Alana!” 

“ _ He _ is Hannibal Lecter,” Will said, sighing internally. He knew that once he opened this Pandora’s box into his personal life, there would be no closing it again with her. “He’s a doctor -- well, he used to be a surgeon but he changed fields and started his own practice. He’s a psychiatrist.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wasn’t he the one that did your psych eval?” 

“No, Alana did, but she did introduce me to him,” Will said, watching as her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Jack wanted him to consult on the Hobbs case back in April but Hannibal declined. Turned out, he didn’t want to cross any professional and ethical boundaries because he wanted to invite me to dinner.” 

“And did he? Invite you to dinner?” 

Will barked out a laugh. “Yeah, he did -- well, first, he showed up at my place for breakfast and brought a homemade protein scramble, and then he asked me to dinner. He’s a gourmet chef. We had some fancy French dish. I’m pretty sure I didn’t impress him with my table manners.” 

“Probably wasn’t your table manners that he was interested in,” she said, her tone slipping into teasing suggestiveness. 

He smiled and shook his head. Will was never the kiss-and-tell type and he wasn’t about to start now. 

“So, you’re dating a guy who is a former surgeon turned psychiatrist and gourmet chef -- all rolled into one?” 

Will frowned slightly, hearing the doubt in her voice. “You don’t believe me?” 

“No, I believe that you’re dating this dude,” she said, kindly. “I just have a hard time trying to wrap my head around a guy who sounds too good to be true. You better be careful, Graham, you might be dating a serial killer.” 

He grinned, ruefully. “That would be just my luck.” 

“Anyway, looking good, Graham. Go you with your rich doctor chef boyfriend.” 

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the counter, putting the ear protection muffs over his ears again. 

*** 

**Behavioral Analysis Unit, Headquarters**

**Quantico, Virginia**

**July 9**

“No more hickeys where people can see,” Will said, just before Hannibal kissed his mouth, tricky and devious tongue slipping inside to lick and taste Will. 

“I shall endeavor to mark you in a more discreet place,” Hannibal murmured, his hand sliding down Will’s side and gripping his shirt, pulling the shirt tails out from under the waistband of his khaki pants. 

Will groaned as Hannibal’s large, warm hand slid underneath the shirt, fingers delicately stroking his lower belly, making him shiver. 

“Perhaps here.” 

“We shouldn’t be doing this now,” Will protested, laughing softly when Hannibal kissed him again, trying to shut him up. “What if your next patient comes in early?” 

“Then we best be quick, shouldn’t we?” 

He was pressed against the sliding ladder in Hannibal’s office. Will had made his way up to Baltimore to meet Hannibal for a late lunch in his office, in between patient appointments. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be getting up to anything there. Hannibal always seemed like the kind of man who believed in propriety. So he was a little caught off guard -- and extremely turned on -- when Hannibal kissed him and held him against the ladder. 

Will had a few fantasies about the ladder in Hannibal’s office. It turned out, Hannibal had a couple of them, too. 

“-- and tie your hands to the rungs with my necktie; and then I would fall to my knees to worship you with my mouth until... _ viskas, ką galite galvoti, yra mano burna ant gaidžio _ \-- “ 

“Earth to Will. Hello, Will.” 

Beverly was waving her hand in front of Will’s face. He pushed her hand away and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was grateful that Beverly and the other forensic crime-scene investigators made time to review some of their previous cases with him as he prepared for his lectures. Being in the labs with them and reviewing the files made Will rethink his stance on not going back into the field. No doubt Jack Crawford would be pleased to have Will join them, but Will knew that with his special skill set, it would become psychologically damaging for him to be chasing after the killers himself. 

“So what were you  _ thinking _ about just now, Will?” She said, cheekily. 

He was thinking that the teasing and the prying into his personal relationship with Hannibal wasn’t worth the damned trouble. 

Will blinked, meeting Beverly’s eyes. “Sorry...I was just...never mind.” 

“ _ Uh-huh _ …how are things going with Dr. Fancy Pants?” 

Jimmy Price looked up from the documents in the folder, his eyes twinkling over the rim of his wire reading glasses. “Dr. Fancy Pants?” 

“Will has a boyfriend.” 

Will let out a loud sigh. “Can you say that without making it sound like I’m a teenager?” 

“Boyfriend?” Brian Zeller said, making a face. “ _ You _ have a boyfriend?” 

Will was oddly...insulted by Zeller’s tone. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Since when?” Jimmy said, cheerfully. “And a doctor, who wears fancy pants no less. Tell us all about him.” 

Will considered killing Beverly. It was no less than she deserved. 

“His name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” Beverly added, helpfully. “He’s a rich psychiatrist-former-surgeon in Baltimore. Apparently, Dr. Lecter is something of a social bigwig.” 

Will made a face at her. “What?” 

“I Googled him,” she said, excitedly. “He’s always going to some fancy charity gala and he’s an Artist Circle member of the Baltimore Opera and the Kennedy Center - you know, people who are big donors and their names are printed in bold inside every show program.” 

Jimmy’s eyes widened in delight. “Oooohhhh, that’s very fancy.  _ Expensive _ fancy.” 

“Can you say any other word than fancy?” Will said, sarcastically. 

Zeller was looking on his phone. “And he’s dating some woman named Bedelia.” His lips curled into a wicked smile. “Are you his side piece, Graham?” 

“What? Give it here!” Jimmy said, snatching the phone out of Zeller’s hand. He and Beverly looked at the screen, frowning at whatever they were looking at. 

“Tough luck, Graham,” Zeller said, slapping his hand on Will’s back and letting out a fake sound of comfort. “Guys like Lecter don’t date guys like us -- well,  **you** , I mean, mere middle class mortals.” 

“No, false alarm. This picture was taken last year,” Beverly said, tossing the phone back to Zeller. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Will; not that we don’t find your...flannel tweed look to be hot for professor and there are some people who are attracted to that,” Jimmy said, leaning back in his chair to give Will a thorough look up and down. “But, uh, how did you end up with a boyfriend like Dr. Fancy Pants?” 

“Right!” Beverly said, slapping Jimmy’s arm in some unknown rule of camaraderie. 

“Hey, Graham, did you know that your boyfriend is a Count?” Zeller said, sitting on top of a dissecting table, kicking his feet. “Lithuanian aristocratic family, last of his line, too.” 

“Oooohhh really?” Beverly said, as she and Jimmy walked towards Zeller, looking down at his phone screen. “Holy shit, Will, you better put a ring on that.” 

“Countess William Graham,” Zeller said, mockingly. “You can always adopt if he needs an heir.”

Will sighed and covered his eyes with his hand, feeling a migraine coming on. 

*** 

**FBI Academy**

**Cafeteria**

**July 23**

Will found an empty table against the wall and tossed his messenger bag on the chair next to him. He’d forgotten to bring his lunch. He’d woken up early, knowing that he’d need the extra hour due to the traffic from Baltimore to Quantico, but then he’d spent the time rolling around with Hannibal on his large, plush bed. He had just enough time to manage a quick shower, threw on his clothes, and barely made it into his first morning lecture on time. 

Luckily, everyone was used to his anti-social manner by now that they didn’t even seem to notice that he was wearing the same clothes from the day before and that his hair was flying out all over his head because he had let it air dry during his hectic morning commute. He should probably say something about their lack of observation skills, but he wasn’t stupid enough to put himself out there. 

He locked himself in his office after his morning class, brushed his hair, put on his deodorant from his emergency stash in the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled on a fresh tee-shirt under his tweed jacket. It wasn’t exactly appropriate, but at least he smelled clean and looked a little better. 

Now, he was starving and he needed some coffee. He wished that he could be the kind of instructor to send one of his students out to fetch him coffee, but he didn’t believe in using his authority in the classroom like that. 

“Hello, Will.” 

That sultry, low voice created a Pavlovian response in Will. He felt his lower belly tighten, a surge of warm pleasure flooding him. He looked up to see Hannibal dressed in one of his beautifully tailored suits, a subdued dark blue and white plaid. He wore a paisley silk tie that was blue and purple and silver, with its proper matching pocket square. His ash blond hair was parted and combed to the side; brown eyes watching Will with curious desire. 

He smiled and got to his feet. “Hannibal. What’re you doing here?” 

Clipped neatly to his jacket lapel was an FBI visitor badge. 

“Jack Crawford asked me to consult on the Madchen case. I believe she may be suffering from Cotard’s Syndrome,” Hannibal said, setting down an insulated bag on the table. “Also, I noticed that you forgot to take your lunch with you in your rush to leave this morning.” 

Will smiled, delightedly. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you, Hannibal.” 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, leaning close to kiss Will chastely on his cheek. 

“Can you stay? Do you have time?” 

“I do,” he said, as Will pulled out a chair for Hannibal, moving to sit on the one beside him. 

He watched as Hannibal unrolled a black linen placemat and set it in front of Will. The edges were scalloped and the corners were embroidered with cranes in black thread. Hannibal then unpacked the insulated bag with a rectangle shaped black box that was polished to gleaming. On the lid was an intricate image of cranes made from white and gray inlaid pearls. Hannibal removed the lid of the bento box and Will smiled, looking at the presentation of the food, each in its own section. 

“Very nice,” he murmured, knowing that there was probably more to come. Hannibal was a born showman and he liked an appreciative audience. 

Hannibal smiled at him as he reached into the bag to pull out two small round shaped containers. He twisted the top half open to reveal a fragrant miso soup, setting it in front of Will. Next came the small ceramic spoon and a set of chopsticks resting on a marble resting base. 

Will waited politely as Hannibal set up his own placemat, bento box, and soup bowl. He set the utensils on his placemat next to the box. 

“Oh, I mustn’t forget the tea,” Hannibal said, reaching into the insulated bag to pull out a small teapot and two small teacups. It was made of white stone and echoed the crane design as well. 

“Everything looks amazing,” he said, placing his hand on Hannibal’s thigh and squeezing the firm muscle. “Now, what did you make us?” 

Before Hannibal could begin explaining the contents of the bento box, Will saw Beverly, Jimmy, and Zeller walk into the cafeteria, heading straight for them. 

“Will! Why didn’t you tell us that your, uh, significant other was in the building,” Beverly chided, smiling widely. She turned her dark eyes at Hannibal. “You must be Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” 

Hannibal pushed back in his chair and got to his feet, smiling charmingly at the three of them. “I am. You must be Special Agent Beverly Katz. Will speaks highly of you, quite often.” 

Will rolled his eyes. “Hannibal, these are my...friends and colleagues.” 

She met Hannibal’s eyes, shaking his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Dr. Lecter.” 

“Hannibal, please, and the pleasure is mine,” he offered, nodding his head. He turned to look at Jimmy and Zeller. “You must be Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller.” 

Will watched as Hannibal shook their hands, making bland small talk. Beverly stared down at the setup for their lunch and arched her eyebrow as she gave Will a meaningful look. 

_ Are you fucking kidding me _ , she mouthed to Will. 

_ I told you _ , Will mouthed back, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Hannibal’s back. 

“Hey, I read that you’re a Count, is that true?” Zeller said, cocking his head and looking at Hannibal. 

“It’s an old family title; however, I prefer not to use it while I’m living in the States.” 

“So does this mean that you have a castle to go with the title?” 

“A family estate in Lithuania,” Hannibal said, politely. 

“Look, guys, Hannibal and I were just sitting down to have lunch. You don’t have to join us, I know you guys are busy,” Will said, waving his hand for them to get out of there before Hannibal saw him. 

“Yeah, actually, we have lab stuff that we need to do,” Beverly said, taking Jimmy and Zeller by the arm and pulling them away. “Nice meeting you Hannibal! We’ll all have to meet for a drink later.” 

“Of course,” Hannibal said, nodding his head. “I would enjoy getting to know Will’s friends.” 

“Great,” Will muttered under his breath. 

Hannibal sat down again and reached into the insulated bag to pull out two cloth napkins, handing one to Will. He gave Will a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you not want your friends to meet me?” 

“It’s not that,” he said, sighing. “Ever since I told them that we were seeing each other, they’ve been Googling you and telling me that they couldn’t see why we were together.” 

“Does their perception of our relationship bother you?” 

“You better not be psychoanalyzing me, Hannibal,” Will warned, flicking his eyes at Hannibal. 

Hannibal chuckled, low and throaty. “I would never presume to do so, Will.” 

*** 

**Sam’s Inn**

**223 Potomac Avenue**

**Quantico, Virginia**

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Will walked into the fairly crowded bar and restaurant that was popular among the FBI employees. It was a family-owned place that respected the people in the service and provided them with a family environment. There were many candidates in the bureau’s trainee program who came from all of the States and some of them felt homesick for their hometowns. 

He saw Beverly, Jimmy and Zeller sitting at their usual round table near the back where it was quieter and the unspoken reserved space for bureau members. 

“ -- can’t believe it, he really is going to be a fucking Countess.” Zeller groused, tossing the society announcements page of  _ The Baltimore Post _ onto the table. “Figures that there’s a goddamn announcement in the papers.” 

Will grinned, seeing the black and white photograph in the paper. They were both wearing tuxedos and Hannibal had convinced Will to get his hair trimmed, just to neaten the unruly curls. Hannibal didn’t want him to have short hair. He liked to curl his fingers in Will’s hair and tug. 

“I bet it’s the sex,” Jimmy said, nodding his head. “That’s got to be the reason why someone like Hannibal Lecter is in love with him. The sex must be hot.” 

Beverly laughed, punching Jimmy in the arm. “Oh, I bet that the sex is hot! Did I tell you guys about the time that I saw the biggest and reddest hickey on the  **back** of Will’s neck? Ohmygod, now we know who bottoms.” 

“No, I disagree,” Jimmy said, sagely. “Lecter is a power bottom. I know the type. He’s always dressed in fine clothes. He’s polite and has lovely manners. The man is repressed, but he wouldn’t be submissive. He probably tells Will exactly what to do, when to do it, and how it should be done.” 

_ Well, he wasn’t wrong, _ Will thought. 

Beverly sighed, leaning her head against Jimmy’s shoulder. “That’s so romantic.” 

Will stood behind them, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Do you guys have nothing better to do than talk about my sex life?” 

Beverly, Jimmy, and Zeller turned to look up at him, their eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

“You’re all uninvited to our wedding, by the way,” Will told them, scowling. 


End file.
